


Blood Moon

by rsadelle



Category: Metallica
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-11
Updated: 2001-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cliff makes a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Nette helped with this. A lot. She read it a whole bunch of times and told me what did and did not work. She even came up with the title. Thanks to Melle for additional consulting.

There's a screech of tires, the bus rolls, and then we're out in the cold, cold air. James is angry. Lars is confused. I'm numb. And Kirk is under the bus.

That's when I wake up. Every goddamned time. It's an old dream by now, but it gets more and more vivid every time. I can see more detail. I can see the way Lars holds his hand like it's hurt. I can see the socks that are the only thing protecting James' feet from the icy ground. I can see how pale Kirk is.

The first time, I panicked. I cried when I woke up, silently so Kirk wouldn't hear me and wake up. I clung to him as he slept for a long time afterwards, trying to go back to sleep.

It startled me the second time; I'd never had the same dream twice before.

By the third time, it started to feel familiar, and there were only a few tears to blink back. I never stopped clinging to Kirk, though. I never told him about the dream, either.

I know it's going to happen, and soon.

***

I drop acid one night when Kirk's there drinking with me. The dream doesn't come, but when I look at Kirk, I see rivulets of blood. I touch his hair, and it feels wet to my fingers. He kisses me, and all I can taste is copper.

He laughs in that wild, drunken way he does and asks me why I'm looking at him strangely, asks if I'm having a bad trip.

"No," I tell him, whispering against the skin of his neck, skin that feels cooler than it should. "The best trip of my life," and I kiss him, feeling him warm to my touch.

Later, the softer taste of his come on my tongue, I touch him, caught up in the color and texture of his hair. Dry now, but still colored with a tinge of blood red.

I tell him, "I love you," so many times that he laughs at me and tells me he gets it. I just smile at him and kiss him and tell him again.

We're in a room that night, and I hold him as he sleeps, watching his face. I sleep, and dream, with my fingers tangled in his hair.

***

One night, I know. I can feel it. This is it. Kirk's going to die. I argue with him that night, about the bunks. I want his. He says no. We draw cards for it. I pull the ace of spades. The death card. I meet Kirk's eyes.

"I want your bunk."

He makes a face at me and says that mine's probably better anyway. It is, but he doesn't know it. I grin and clap him on the shoulder, pull him close for a moment. He glares at me for a minute, then relents and leans against me.

I know all the old stories, about how you can't deny your fate, but I *know*. I know where he is in the dream. I can change this. And if I can't, at least I will have done something. I won't just let Kirk die.

I lie awake for a long time, thinking about it, but eventually I sleep. I won't let Kirk die.

There's a familiar screech of tires, and the bus rolls. This time, it ends differently.


End file.
